


Something Just Like This

by Bravehardt, Foxglove_Fiction



Category: Doctor Strange (2016), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alcohol, But mostly fluff, Canon Divergence, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, IronStrange, M/M, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Tony Stark Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-19
Updated: 2018-11-19
Packaged: 2019-08-25 19:17:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16666681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bravehardt/pseuds/Bravehardt, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Foxglove_Fiction/pseuds/Foxglove_Fiction
Summary: Tony and Stephen both have a history with each other. Before Tony became the Iron man, and Stephen was injured in his car accident, they used to be an item. But after their victory over the mad titan Thanos, a reunion of heroes leads Tony and Stephen to question their past relationship and feelings - What ever happened to it?





	Something Just Like This

 

Three months after the pandemic with Thanos, the city of New York had been cleaned up and the devastation in Greenwich village had just about been reconstructed and put back to normal. Wakanda as well, reporting with good news of their civilization’s recovery, picking up the pieces that the Ebony Blade had left in ruin.  
  
All was righted from its wrong and in celebration of their success _literally saving the world_ \- as stereotypical as that sounded - Stark enterprises had decided to host a reunion event and memorial reception in honor of the heroes who fought so valiantly to protect the Earth.   
  
It was nice to see some familiar faces all together in good spirits rather than having to assemble to fight off some worldly threat. Any time there was a conglomeration of minds such as this it was usually because of a government-mandated meeting or some danger to life. But now there were no threats, no politicians, no scripts or accords to sour such a joyful event. They both celebrated and mourned the loss of colleagues and noble soldiers, toasts were given, parts were said and while a good fraction of the night had been dedicated towards dictated memoirs of grandeur reminiscing - the final stretch had been spent in festivity to balance it out and lift the spirits of the broken.   
  
And the man who spearheaded this effort, Tony Stark himself, was to thank for most of the financial relief (if not all of it) and planning. It wasn’t a surprise to him that even the least fond of his acquaintances had showed up and in turn enjoyed themselves. The summons had gone out to everyone and all who played their part in the war.

Of all the people he expected to show up, Mr. Serious-Pants Sorcerer and his ‘house-wife’ were not among them. He’d almost say that events such as these almost seemed beneath the magic-wielder.

It had taken Stephen the better part of a week to decide whether or not to accept the invitation he’d received. It was an all-call, nothing unique or special about it in specific, but the nostalgia had hit him like a bag of bricks.

An invitation to a social gathering as hosted by _Tony Stark_.

That name scrawled across the bottom, the quality of the paper, both were reminders of a life he’d left in the past. A time when he thought he was so much more than what he was, and yet was so much _less_ than he was now. A time he’d thought he was happy and that time counted for enough to make the invitation enticing.

The process of actually _getting_ to the event might have been easier if Wong had at least waited for him before heading out - but no, he’d decided he was hungry and had no time for Stephen’s fussing. Which was fair.

He _was_ fussing.

That was the unfortunate side effect of knowingly meeting up with an ex - there was a dramatic need to _dress well_ .   
  
Invitations had been sent out - did that make it a formal event? Yet he couldn’t imagine some of the other guests arriving in formal wear. So, more likely it was meant to be casual then, or semi-casual. The night still involved a certain degree of business; this was a gathering of allies hailing from across the galaxy - some he knew, others he _needed_ to know. And some he just needed to talk to again. He had a job to do, and this was a good way to attempt to forge bonds with these people.   
  
So Stephen joined the party, perhaps a little later than intended, in a black leather jacket, black t-shirt, and straight black jeans. Simple. It would have been boring, almost, if not for the way the Cloak of Levitation shifted into a rather decorative scarf around his neck, gracing him with its company and support.

Maybe too much support? He was nervous enough without its smothering.

Thankfully as Stephen’s nerves settled, so too did the cloak, and it was easy for him to relax after being handed a large stein as he was greeted by Thor’s heavy hand thumping his shoulder, given the jolly instruction to ‘drink up and celebrate!’

The sorcerer nearly spilled his drink entirely under the strength of that hand in the time it took him to rebalance himself, but the Asgardian’s enthusiasm was infectious enough to be worth giving the towering blond a smile and a small toast.

The crowd was colourful as he picked out those he’d met, those he knew of, and those he’d seen in a dream, moving on to greet each in turn as he made his polite social rounds in the room.

Waves of patrons mingled and collected in small groups, some clusters shifting to join with others while stragglers broke off to lounge on some of the gallery furniture.  
  
Some heroes inebriated, having already delved into the thick of the night. Needless to say Thor was the easiest to spot among the crowd of merriment and it would have appeared that Wong was already mingling with Doctor Banner near the buffet - not a surprise, considering those two seemed the most familiar with each other. 

Tony himself had to do a double-take. If Wong was there then…

 _Yep._ There he was! No wonder he hadn’t noticed him at first - he’d expected to see Stephen show up wearing his magical get-up despite the rest of the crowd either being in formal or casual wear.

He himself was clad in a simple black pair of dress pants, white dress shirt and black blazer.  
  
Tony traipsed over to Stephen, having abandoned poor Peter with the Steve, Rhodes, Clint and Natasha and clapped a hand down on his shoulder _from behind_ . Attempting to startle Stephen for all intents and purposes.   
  
“Well, well, well, look who poked their head out of Hogwarts, it’s nice to see you bud!” He tipped his drink to Stephen in a toast.

Despite the cloak settled around his shoulders not deciding the Iron Man was a threat enough to warn him, Stephen’s body flinched very slightly at first at the contact in surprise, and he took a moment to compose himself before he turned an amicable smile on the host.

“Is Hogwarts the best you can come up with, Stark? You’ve been beaten to Harry Potter references by two others already.” He’d done his best to keep the tone conversational, but he lost the battle with his instincts and gave the other a careful once-over before lifting his drink to sip at it as his butterflies calmed themselves. _‘You look well.’_

Not _good_.

Word choice was important, despite the distant familiarity of this whole situation. Tony appeared in good health - there was no need to remark on the man’s physique.

“This is quite the turn-out.” Very distant familiarity. This was a far-cry from a showy gala or fundraiser. No tuxedos in sight. _A shame._ Tony looked excellent in a tux.

“-Oh pfft- fine! Would you prefer David Blaine?” Tony quipped right back, probably not a good reference either, but heck he was trying!

He had that trademark smirk plastered over his face, grinning ear-to-ear as he took a sip from his whiskey snifter. Alcohol was laden on his breath and it was evident there was a hint of a slur to his silken words.  
  
“Well you know, it was technically a pseudo funeral. Don’t tell me you wouldn’t come to my funeral if I’d died.” There was a silence, or lack thereof a moment where Stark wasn’t yammering on. ”-I’m wounded, you’ve wounded me.”

 _Not everyone was going to make it._ Stephen had reflected on in that brief moment, losing himself in the past.

There was no future in which that was possible, but it weighed on him regardless. He’d made the call himself to a point - who lived, who died. There _was_ only one way through that mess, but that changed nothing about his feeling of responsibility for those lost to that way. The rest he’d had to entrust to Tony.

At least Tony had made it through. He wasn't going to think about Tony's funeral.

He'd seen enough of that.

Tony finally removed his hand from Stephen’s shoulder, only to hook a finger into the lip of the red scarf coiled around his neck.

“This is new, never pegged you as fashionable.” He once more eyed Stephen up and down, his alcohol-addled mind taking his thoughts to _other places._

“I’ll give you that, David Blaine _is_ at least new tonight,” Stephen chuckled, a little smile crossing his features before his expression became more solemn for a moment in memoriam.

He would have remained somber and his mood might’ve stayed that way too, if the cloak hadn’t answered Tony’s caress with a quick swat at his hand, coiling itself carefully in its spot before he raised his own hand to settle it.

“Hm, you’ve met before, did you forget? This is the Cloak of Levitation… Currently masquerading as a rather cozy scarf, if I do say so myself.” There was a warm, affectionate pride to his tone and gaze as he gave the cloak one last doting pat before returning his bright eyes to Tony. "I'm glad you approve."

Tony should have expected that, but he didn’t, and now he felt rather silly.   
  
He tentatively withdrew smiling sheepishly at Stephen. The gentle soothing undertone of Stephen’s voice was really something. He felt the pit of his stomach warm when he’d heard that calm, gravelly voice crooning his companion and no- it wasn’t from the alcohol.   
  
“Yes, actually we have-” He reached over this time to simply give the enchanted article of clothing a gentle stroke. “-When it made a pass at me on your behalf, you know, before a giant donut destroyed Greenwich village?”

Stephen’s face was amused as he took in Tony’s sheepishness, though he kept his smile at least mostly in check, hiding the grin which fought to surface behind a sip of his drink.

He nearly choked at Tony’s playful accusation.

Stephen had forgotten the stern talking to he meant to have with the cloak after that, but given the aforementioned donut he was hard-pressed to worry about the cloak having an affection for Tony Stark’s ass.

It was a _nice_ ass, his cloak had good taste.   
  
“I had nothing to do with that you know.” Though he doubted the mogul would believe him, or really cared _whose_ intent it was. Either way, it had ended up with the cloak snapping at Tony’s ass, and no one else here was going to back him up about the nature of certain magical artifacts. He could feel the telltale heat of a small blush brushing across his cheeks - and if he couldn’t, the fabric around his neck certainly could, only serving to make it worse.   
  
The relic didn’t deem this a good time to care for subtlety, rubbing at Stephen’s cheeks for a moment before fluttering itself up and winding around Tony’s wrist in return for the stroke. Stephen cleared his throat softly and the cloth withdrew.

“It likes you well enough without much care for my input on the matter. Though we may have to have a talk about manners and personal space."

Tony’s grin turned accusatory as Stephen lightly chastised the poor ‘cloak’. He followed suit, taking another quaff from his crystal sifter and non-nonchalantly muttering into the glass so his words were deliberately muffled by the lack of airspace. He had to fight the wash of warmth that flooded his cheeks when that scarf had grappled onto his wrist.  
  
“And I suppose winking at me after the ordeal was the cloak’s doing too, huh?” His voice going small and eyes flicking down at his glass, then quickly up over the ridge of his oddly colored lenses. That cartoonishly denunciatory gaze any glasses-wearer would give you, the wordless _‘Nice try buddy but you’re not fooling me’_ .   
  
“-You know what I think?” He pulled back from his glass and made some sort of gesture with his hand, thumb and pinky finger extended, pointing at the both of them. “-I think you two are in cahoots against me.”

Soft laughter slipped from Stephen’s lips at that comment, and he shrugged lightly.

“Ah, yes you’ve caught us. Months of planning against you, suddenly accursedly foiled by an overly ambitious magical cloak and a wink. What a shame. Such a waste of good planning.” The drink he held was finally emptied, thankfully, since he wasn’t terribly keen on whatever it was Thor had handed him anyway, but he didn’t want it to go to waste either. He wasn’t exactly in a rush to wander away from Tony for a refill though, so he simply set the mug down on the table nearest him and leaned against it slightly.

“So what it is you think we’re planning anyways? What is our dastardly plan, Stark? What else do you _think_ you know?” A wry smirk twisted across the sorcerer’s lips, a twinkle of mirth in his eyes as he played with the edge of the cloak - and the cloak seemed content to let that happen, pliant between scarred fingers as any piece of cloth should be.

 _Oh no,_ Tony almost melted at the sound of that soft chuckle, he felt the butterflies in his stomach and then felt his knees weaken. He shifted on spot, lifting one foot, then the other to get the blood flowing again. His body was betraying him, there was something _there_ and he hadn’t realized the extent of how he’d felt up until now - until he actually had a moment to spare and just talk to Stephen.   
  
_It’s the alcohol, it’s the alcohol…it’s the alcohol_ , He repeated in his head like a mantra.   
  
He slung an arm around Stephen’s shoulders, nothing intimate, but more casual as a friend would. Tony lead him over towards the open bar and stopped them there where they could conveniently continue their dialogue in the presence of _more alcohol._   
  
“-All a clever ruse mister, I know you can’t resist all of _this_. ” He used the hand holding his glass to draw a circle with his index finger in the air pointing to himself. “And you too Mr.-” Tony pointed at the scarf and made a silly confused face “Does it-she-he even have a name?” He quirked a brow at Stephen.

Red and gold spun quickly through the air a bit to make room for Tony’s arm, determined not to be pinned beneath it. It rested itself easily around the pair once again as they walked, not at all minding the spectacle it made with its motion, mostly lost in the festivities overall. That hardly stopped the cloak from curling a little bit around Tony’s neck loosely, as though in agreement with Tony’s proclamation of his irresistibility.

Was it really so far beyond questioning just exactly _why_ Tony Stark was now crowded in against Stephen, sharing a scarf? Honestly knowing Tony, no not really.   
  
_This night just couldn’t get any better!_ he wasn’t going to be one to protest with the close contact. It was almost like the both of them were snug under a cozy blanket. _A rather affectionate - sentient cozy blanket at that!_

Regardless, between Tony’s guiding arm and the cloak’s encouragement (and an honest desire to drink and relax, thank you very much) Stephen allowed himself to be led to the bar without protest. Nor did he see fit to protest Tony’s entirely too accurate assessment of his ability to resist the other man.

Stephen didn’t know exactly where he stood on that point these days - it had been a while - and Tony didn’t need to know that. He’d wheedle out whatever weaknesses he wanted in his own time without Stephen’s confessions.

“It’s a cloak,” Stephen responded as though it should be obvious, “It certainly hasn’t indicated any gender. But if I’m trying to confuse the general public I’ll call it Levi. Cloak is fine. It’s not a fan of being called a cape, mind you.”  
  
Tony was about to respond with another wise-crack when Peter approached the both of them to finally greet the sorcerer. He gave the two of them a clueless look, and you could see the cogs turning in the kid’s head.   
  
Peter was nursing a virgin daiquiri, a bright pink slushy-like drink with a strawberry resting on the side of the glass, the rim of the glass coated in a glaze of sugar. It earned him something along the lines of _‘Hey kid there better not be alcohol in that.’_ from Tony and a _‘No Mr. Stark’_  he’d chirped right back in response.   
  
“Mr. Strange, it’s nice to see you again! How are you feeling after the whole space-ship thingy?” Peter was now chatting the doctor up.

Tony, still with his arm around Stephen’s shoulders and somewhat moving him as he gestured to the bartender as non-intrusively to the conversation as he could, indicated to bring over a couple rounds of whiskey-sours.

 _‘This isn’t what it looks like!’_ The thought shot through his mind like a bullet, but that didn’t quite make it to the sorcerer’s lips as he locked his own fingers firmly together behind his back to keep a hand from wandering over the small of Tony’s backside and rest on his hip. He wanted to; once upon a time he might have let his fingers run over the man’s lower back without a second thought, a possessive gesture meant to ward off Stark’s many admirers, as much as to remind the other of his presence.   
  
But that was then, things had changed since then.   
  
Peter was the perfect reminder of that very here-and-now mentality. Silver-blue eyes closed a moment as he took a deep breath to settle himself, his face - a fixed smile when they opened again and watched the entirely-too-young Avenger.   
  
“I’m well, thank you Peter.” The warmth in his tone would have been hard to fake - thankfully he was plenty fond of the teen. “How have you been? How is life settling after everything?” Each question was a distraction from the comfortable feeling of Tony’s arm on his shoulder. Something _else_ to focus on.

Peter began his preamble on how _he’d just aced a math quiz - and there was this girl! She was super cute and he was trying to work up the nerve to ask her out. Mary Jane was her name, and Aunt May and him had started this fun project at home and-_   
  
Tony had heard it all before, multiple times and as Strange was distracted, nay _trapped_ in conversation with the young lad - he thought it most appropriate to move that arm from Stephen’s shoulders. The sorcerer would be able to feel his arm slide from its perch under the encompassing scarf, weave through Stephen’s folded arms and slide around his waist so his digits were hooked around Stephen’s farthest hip. In turn, he was pinning Stephen’s closest arm up against himself.   
  
A drink.

Stark had ordered drinks, right?

_A drink was coming._

Stephen’s mouth felt suddenly very dry as he tried to maintain his mask of interest for Peter, despite the rather pressing tingle he felt radiating out from where the other man’s hand rested. The boy’s schooling - _important_ . The boy’s romantic interest - _cute_ , _good for him_ . The boy’s family - _alive and well_ , that was also good news. Fragments of information that tugged at his attentions.   
  
Not effectively enough, however. Not with the warmth pressed along his side. Not with the cloak curled around him, tickling absently at his neck.

Not with the the hand on his hip.

He’d felt the sorcerer tense anxiously, Tony purposefully trying to make him uncomfortable. Anyone who’d been paying attention would have seen the movement behind Stephen’s back.  
  
Tony took another sip from his glass. He’d leaned into Stephen’s side simply drawing in the earthy scents that surrounded him under that red mantle. _What was it…?_ Incense, aged wood, embers, a hint of cologne and-   
  
“Right Mr. Stark?” Peter chirped and he was snapped from his daze.

“OH, _yeah_ , yeah kid…” He responded automatically, having no idea what the Peter had asked him.

Stephen knew he could pull away. He could brush off the hand and create space, recalling the cloak to him entirely with a word. But any of those actions would draw attention to _why_ he was doing that, and was that really something he wanted to explain? Not really. Not to Peter. Not to anyone else here. He wasn’t even sure he could explain it to Tony.   
  
Stephen’s free hand released the trapped one and curled around one of the glasses as that drink finally appeared, and he took comfort in the feel of it as he took a sip.

That… yeah that really was much better than what Thor had given him.

 _Damn Stark and his good tastes._ And wasn’t _that_ just the thought he needed?

“I haven’t seen your fiance so far Stark. Is she busy this evening?” A not so subtle hint, he just realized, but maybe Tony really was drunk enough to need the reminder.

The question didn’t catch Tony off guard, but he did struggle a bit as he’d taken a rather large gulp of his drink by accident and thankfully, Peter was there to chime in while Tony began to cough and sputter at the overwhelming burning sensation in this throat.

\- _Too much, too much!_   
  
“Oh don’t you read the newspaper Mr. Strange?” Peter piped up on Tony’s behalf, no loss of enthusiasm to his voice. “Miss Potts separated with him a while ago,” he continued to draw on the subject. “She’d-”   
  
“-Amicable, it was an amicable breakup.” Tony cut Peter off. “That’s enough out of you kid, go play with your buddy Nate - or Ned, whatever his name is. I’m sure he’s lonely with you bringing him to a party and ditching him with a bunch of freaky adults.”   
  
Peter peeked over his shoulder, Ned was preoccupied trying to chat up Steve who was more than happy to yammer on.   
  
“Sure thing Mr. Stark!” Peter puttered off, retrieving a glass of Coke for Ned that had been waiting for him on the bar top. Tony turned to Stephen his smile had faltered a bit.   
  
“Well, you heard it.”

“... Tony, I’m sorry.” It was quiet. It crept out of him with a deep sincerity once Peter had moved away, his voice nearly lost in the noise of the crowd. A soft sympathy flickered in his eyes as he looked to the shorter man. “I didn’t know.”

He’d been busy with repairs to the Sanctum Sanctorum, a tedious task of trying to get monsters back into their respective closets and seeking out mystical contractors capable of repairing the damage to the living structure.

_Again._

They hadn’t been impressed.

Mentioning Pepper Potts had been a tactless error on his part where he’d thought he was being diplomatic. No wonder Tony was drinking.

Stephen started to set his glass down, though the cloak was quick to take it up for him, leaving his hand free to gently brush over the hand resting on his hip.

“If you want to talk about it… well, you know. I’ve got two ears, specifically designed for listening.” Articulate? Not really, but Stephen wasn’t wholly sure it was a good idea to linger on the subject too long either. “-and if you don’t, I can think of twenty things off the top of my head we could discuss otherwise.” His hand squeezed briefly before he released it again to retrieve the glass from his cloak.

“Your call.”

“Hah! Well you walked right into that one.” Tony gave Stephen another squeeze, still not relenting. Sure it hurt to bring the topic to light but there was no reason to dwell on past matters. He was rather surprised when he felt Stephen’s softly tremoring palm graze over the tops of his knuckles in a reassuring gesture, patting him gently.  
  
“Say doc...” He started, fingers tightening around the glass, “I’d actually enjoy that, because I’m not gonna lie,” He continued, dawdling with his words, “-all _this_ ,” He gestured to the crowd merrily enjoying the festivities. “Was half a means of a distraction.” He let out a single half-hearted snort, cynicism creeping in his voice.   
  
“So, y’mind if we just… go somewhere quiet and yeah, talk?” Tony didn’t make eye contact with Stephen. “We haven’t caught up, it’s been a while.” Tony glanced behind him making sure no-one was paying attention to them before he gestured towards a staircase leading up to the second floor gallery.

_Of course it was meant as a distraction. How better not to feel alone than to surround yourself with people celebrating?_

Stephen’s repositioned his pinned arm so it was now placed around Tony’s waist, resting on his side.

“A while indeed,” He agreed with a soft sigh. There were unlikely to be better times to catch up, either while there were no immediate threats to the world or risks of danger.

Probably.  
  
“This is quite the setup you have here.” Filler conversation, well enough, but in line with catching up. Easy public conversation. “Did you design this facility, as well?”

He remembered the first time he saw the bright glow of ‘STARK’ across the skies of New York. He also remembered the surprise he’d felt - with himself, for not realizing the impressive tower was a project of the engineer’s until his name blazed in the night sky.  
  
But this facility was a different beast entirely.

Sprawling outward with a pragmatic elegance and organized practicality, it was a far cry from the tall, shining presence of the former Avengers Tower, but felt sturdier.

Perhaps because it wasn’t a high-rise - quite the contrary, which tended to make things feel more grounded in all sense of the word.

“Well, it’s a lot more functional than the last one,” Tony joked, leading them both to the upper deck. It came as a surprise to still have the other man’s arm around his side. It felt familiar, it felt safe, but most of all it was appreciated and it only enkindled those fond feelings that had laid dormant within him.  
  
There was a seating area on the upper deck, lounge chairs in a waiting area in front of multiple offices and some of the compounds various facilities. It was unlikely that they would be disturbed so far away from the hustle and bustle of the party life.

Tony led them over to one of the leather couches where they both sat down. Still not bothering to move away. He leaned his weight into Stephen’s side taking great comfort in both the sorcerer and his cloak’s presence.  
  
“Pepper and I designed this together, form over function.” He started, fingering his glass and staring at the amber liquid sloshing against the sides. “None of that jazz, no sparkle, no glamour - we needed something out of the city, we needed to get away from it all." He took a drawn out sip.   
  
“If there were threats, the tower was basically a big fat bullseye - hell, some jackass wizard even opened a portal on top of it.” He shook his head, shuddering at the memory of the Chitauri invasion.

Stephen left his arm around Tony’s waist as he made himself comfortable. There was temptation enough to tug the other closer, to fasten him against his side, secure and safe under an arm, and bury his nose in the man’s hair.

He could see it better now, the little bit of greying in the man’s brown locks - age, he realized, the tell-tale sign of just _how_ long it had been. Even the Chitauri seemed like forever ago now.   
  
“You? With no sparkle or glamour?” That won a little smirk from him, though. Tony Stark, Iron Man, the one who had been steadily redefining grand entrances for as long as Stephen had known of him - creating a home with no razzle-dazzle, who would've guessed?   
  
“I can imagine why after Loki’s attack on New York you might have had issues with the location.” And _boy_ did he remember that day.

The hospital had been a flood of the scared and injured who didn’t know what was going on. Not that the staff had any better idea, not that _Stephen_ had known any better either.

Not then.

“You used to live in that tower too, didn’t you?”  
  
That didn’t seem like somewhere that someone with any kind of sense would rest well in after.

“Hard to believe I know, and yes I did. It took me a while to even feel safe in my own damn living space again.” Calling it a living space rather than a home. Pepper made it a home, the Avengers made it a home, and it’s probably why he surrounded himself by strong people. Tony needed the safety, but he also wanted to keep his loved ones close so he could protect them.  
  
Wasn’t that what this was all about?   
  
“I think I’m better off now than I was back then.” He tipped his glass, finishing off the rest of his drink, leaning forward a second to set the glass down on the coffee table in front of them. 

“I can see how one might argue that you’re better off,” Stephen agreed with an easy smile as he sipped at his drink, thoughtfully. “You’re certainly surrounded by good people. A sense of purpose, also a good thing to have.” He paused, “Moving away from weapons manufacturing is also a plus in my books.”  
  
But not something to harp about. Just an acknowledgement of progress, because that was all this was about. Not judgement. Just recognition of change.

“-And what about you?” He finally met Stephen’s eyes, staring into those deep grey-blue irises. “I never even got the chance to ask when all of _this_ happened to you.” He delicately slipped his fingers around the digit’s Stephen had curled around his waist, tenderly squeezing.   
  
“This magician’s gig, I never pegged you as being into the spiritual-magical mumbo-jumbo.”

“You were right not to. I was more than just a skeptic but I had nothing left, and _aliens_ had descended from the skies already. I mean… after a point I had to believe in _something_ out there. Especially when I couldn’t believe in _me_ .”   
  
The hand resting on Tony’s hip curled inward, bunching the fabric. “... I just wanted my hands back. My career. My _life_. I got so much more than I expected.” Stephen chuckled softly, a hint of resignation hidden there. “Bit off more than I could chew with that one.”

Tony turned in towards Stephen, their knees would now be touching as Stark faced into his side. He had to mask a soft cackle when Stephen’s fingers prodded into his muscles. He was hiding the fact that he was just a little ticklish as well, but he didn’t pull away. In fact his own hand was still resting over Stephen’s, fingers curled into the spaces between while his thumb ghosted delicately over the track mark on Stephen’s thumb in gentle, steady caresses.  
  
“You know that is so like you Stephen Strange, you were always burying yourself in work.” There was that smile again as Tony gave him a reignited grin “I mean, you were always destined for greatness, you worked hard, put so much time into your practice - I’m not surprised.” He chewed on his tongue nervously, mulling over what he was about to say next.   
  
“God…would you believe me if I told you I’ve missed _this_ …?” Tony’s chest tightened with anxiety, he was bordering on something very delicate and he’d hate for Stephen to think it was all just because he had a few drinks in him.   
  
Because those feelings had long been reignited though unknown to Tony ever since he laid eyes on Stephen in Central Park after years spent apart.

The cloak adjusted around them with ease, wrapping lower against their shoulders almost like a cat resettling for a nap.

_It meant more._

It didn’t need to shift for it’s own comfort and the motion made to soothe a momentary flare of uncertainty in Stephen did the trick. He set the glass aside to free his other hand up, though he did little more with it than rest it in his own lap.  
  
Hearing those words were an odd shock to his system, however, between _Tony Stark_ plainly stating he was destined for greatness and the immediate painful recollection of the Ancient One’s words: _’It’s not_ **_about_** _you.’_ An ever present echo in his mind, a reminder of what he’d been and what he’d _chosen_ and why. Arrogance and fear. Of course he still feared failure - how could he not? The consequences of his failure could be catastrophic - but he’d been learning the difference between fear of _any_ failure, and the fear of the world ending as a result of his failure.  
  
“I’ll leave being great to people like you,” Stephen murmured softly as he further allowed his arm to curl more firmly around Tony, enjoying the comfortable warmth of the other’s familiar presence. “I just need to be good. And _stay_ good. You know, within reason. No selling my soul to a demon or something like that.”  
  
His eyes shifted once more to Tony as Stephen sighed softly. “- and of course I would. Unless you’ve become much more physically affectionate with people in general in recent years.” His free hand lifted from his lap to brush at Tony’s hair lightly.

“... I missed this, too.”

Tony was like a deer caught in headlights after that mutual admission. He felt his entire body freeze, wracked with a multitude of feelings _. ‘I missed this, too.’_ Replayed in his mind, a form of reciprocation to his flirting.   
  
“As uncharacteristically me as it sounds: no, it’s not because I’ve just been desperate for affection.” He stated, there was an undertone of defensiveness to it, almost like a desperation to prove the other wrong. “I’m talking about us - _you._ ” He trailed off. He needed to recompose himself and take control of this situation.   
  
He let out a deep breath to calm his nerves. Then the embrace of the cloak had really helped the both of them as he paid attention to the reassuring and comforting pressure it offered on his shoulders.   
  
Were there any words left to be said? Tony was at a crossroads with his decisions, and one which stuck out far more pronounced than the rest did not require speech to get his point across. He’d already risked everything with that last statement, so why stop there? He could read body language, and there were enough clues there for even him to follow after with his alcohol-addled mind.   
  
Tony leaned in and planted his lips square on the corner of Stephen’s mouth. A gesture which indicated Stephen could chose to turn away from it, or embrace it.   
  
As Stephen was throwing himself out on the line, so was Tony, exposing a bare, fragile weakness out in the open, pure, raw emotion.

 _‘Desperate for affection?’_ It hadn’t been Stephen’s first thought, but now it was there, lodged in place despite the defensiveness of it. Or maybe _because_ of it. He hadn’t asked how long ago things with Pepper ended - recent enough, if he was using the gathering as a distraction.

Was this another one?  
  
Would this be their little secret, hidden away up here for a few hours until eventually he returned to the Sanctum and life took them onwards, separately again? Just a moment, stowed away for the both of them to get some kind of closure? Would they stay together like this, in stolen moments between crises, trying to hold on to something they’d already failed to maintain?

They’d both changed. There was no way of truly measuring how much, but both of them had a higher purpose now.   
  
Wouldn’t it be nice to curl up in bed after a hard fought battle, holding someone who understood the fight? Wouldn’t it be nice to be able to feel loving fingers carefully bandaging wounds, and being able to return the favour? Wouldn’t it be _nice_ to to mourn lost lives with someone else who knew what it felt like to feel responsible - _be_ responsible - for death, despite trying everything in one’s power to prevent it? 

Wouldn’t it be nice if that someone was Tony?  
  
He was letting his thoughts get so far ahead of himself. Biting off more than he could chew, _again_.

So he only sighed softly, fingers still brushing at Tony’s hair gently, and hoped for the best as he ran his lips tentatively over Tony’s. A taste. A test. And it left his heart jumping in his chest.

That single act of resignation had Tony pushing Stephen down onto the couch. Chest-to-chest he could feel the palpitation of Stephen’s beating heart up against his own. It was exhilarating in every aspect, igniting as he hooked an arm around Stephen’s head to cradle it from harm.  
  
His other free hand braced itself against the backing of the leather couch, their bodies flush against each other as he practically straddled the poor mage underneath him.

This was not an act of desperation, however, one of the omission of doubt to embrace deeper more complex desires. An attempt to explore long lost feelings, to resign oneself to closeness and unity - a melding of mutual consciousness.  
  
Tony tilted his head into their now passionate lip-lock forcing entry into the sorcerer’s mouth. His actions still held a tentativeness, ready in case Stephen were to suddenly change his mind about their physical mingling. He poured his entirety into that kiss, realization of how much he’d longed for the other, hitting him with wave after wave of emotional turbulence.

For a moment time seemed to melt away. However long it had been, however much had changed, whatever else was to come, _none_ of it mattered - none of it changed that this felt _exactly_ the way it was supposed to. The scars that limited his hands didn’t impede him enough to stop him from running his fingers to the back of Tony’s head, grasping brown locks with need as Stephen’s mouth slipped open.  
  
A tugging under Stephen encouraged him to arch his chest up against Tony’s to allow the cloak to scoot out from under him. _Not as though he was opposed to pressing against Tony anywhere he could_ _at that point._ And he was starting to regret the leather jacket already.

It was too warm.

He wasn’t going to _do_ anything about it right now, but it certainly reminded him that there was a barrier between himself and Tony, which still stopped this from being _perfect_. So his free hand slipped to Tony’s shoulder, tugging lightly at the blazer. He wasn’t sure himself if it was a request or a demand, but the cloth was definitely in the way, and the very unnecessary outwear’s removal wouldn’t require him to relinquish Tony’s lips.

And just so, there were no words needed as Tony registered that he needed to lose the blazer. He made messy work of taking the damn thing off through the fit of furious kissing. Untangling his himself from the man below him, lips still pressed fervently to the other as he clumsily jerked and slipped the black outerwear off of his arms. His right arm, then the left, before he shook and shed the dress coat to the ground.  
  
His hands were soon gripping Stephen’s jacket, balancing himself on Stephen’s chest as he slipped it off his shoulders. Both men, just clad in their shirts continued their amorous graze until Tony finally needed to sever the oral bond so he didn’t pass out from lack of oxygen.   
  
He pulled away, mouth swollen and red, face completely flushed and eyelids at half-mast as he looked down upon Stephen’s prone form, panting in exhilaration as he tried to catch up with himself.

The sorcerer was a sight to behold, and he felt nothing but absolute and total fondness swell within his being as a hand came down to tenderly cradle the sorcerer’s cheek, smiling softly as he locked eyes with him.

Better. _Better_...

Just as his skin was allowed to breathe, Stephen took a few staggered breaths of his own, watching Tony’s face with a degree of dazed pleasure as he rested his cheek against his hand.

“I also missed _this_ .” He managed a breathy laugh. A smile played at the corners of his mouth, as he openly admired the man atop him.   
  
He could have apologized. He could have said a hundred times over that he was sorry he just never called, that he was sorry they stopped talking, that he was _sorry_ ... But he wasn’t sorry. Not that way. Not right now. Not for everything it meant they became.   
  
“I missed you, Tony.” That was the truth of the matter. Perhaps it was apology enough. His fingers released Tony’s hair so that his hands could settle themselves gently on the outside Tony’s thighs, thumbs drawing little circles there.

Tony let out a shaky, breathy laugh.  
  
“That was… Something.” He trailed off, his thumb absently rubbing the pronounced zygomatic of Stephen’s cheek. “What even… Happened to _us_? How did we drift so far apart?” He murmured softly, heart racing.

He gave in to gravity and leaned down, resting his cheek up against Stephen’s collarbone. His other unoccupied hand snaked around the sorcerer’s waist and he pressed into the warm body below him attempting to get closer than they already were. One knee had found purchase in the junction between Stephen's legs while the other straddled his outer thigh.  
  
Tony’s entire body was ablaze with feelings, drunk off of the passion ignited between their harmonious concord. Each beat of Stephen’s heart, echoing through his very core as he slowed his breathing, taking deep, steady breaths and conceding to the other’s being.

“The world had other plans for both of us-” Stephen responded with a calm certainty, slowly collecting himself again as he tried to answer Tony's question - a question he'd asked so many times before, and had no luck answering. Of course he knew now. His arms curled tighter around Tony, and the cloak once again settled in, draping itself casually across Tony’s upper back, covering Stephen’s hands. “-more important plans.”  
  
It wasn’t as though the cosmos were done with him yet either. He knew this was an on-going task - protecting this realm from intrusions, studying to better do so, gathering magical artifacts and relics for safekeeping and documentation - that would likely continue until he died as the Ancient One had. It also didn’t seem likely that Tony was going to simply _cease_ to be Iron Man, so perhaps the same could be said of him.   
  
He buried his nose into Tony’s hair, smiling a bit more warmly to himself. Metal, grease, the smells of a workshop buried under whatever shampoo Tony was using now. Familiar, as much as it mattered, and different enough to warrant note.

“We’re not those same people who drifted apart anymore though. You fly around in a metal suit, and I tear holes in space and time.” _Maybe not so much the time part_ _anymore,_ but that was for the best anyways. His lips pressed to Tony's forehead and he closed his eyes, indulging in the feeling of comfort and warmth.

Tony registered the chorus of Stephen’s heart thrumming in his ears as his words registered softly in his mind. This felt so good, almost too good to be true. He hadn’t felt this level of reprieve and solace in a long time.

Not even with Pepper.

Sure he loved Pepper but the stress and adrenaline was always there to try and protect her whenever even a hint of threat was nearby. It drove him to innovate, invent, to further his craft which in turn ended up driving a rift in between them.  
  
But with Stephen, he wasn’t just some damsel in distress. He was a formidable individual, even more-so than himself in his own way. He wouldn’t ever need to worry about protecting him, the vicious cycle he so relentlessly pursued may finally even cease.   
  
“Hey Stephen,” Tony started, his voice but a hum against the sorcerer’s neck, “What do you say we give this another shot, you know for old time’s sake. I’m willing to put the effort in; I’ll have your back when you need it, and I know you’ll have mine.” He curled in under the soft fabric of the cloak, once again relishing in it’s tenderness. It was as if he was hypnotized by the soft gravelly voice of the other man, he couldn’t get enough of it.

Even if his breathing had managed to steady, the wisps of Tony’s facial hair and breath against his neck were enough to keep his heart-rate elevated. Not racing, but a steady thrum a little faster than a fully relaxed beating - enough to prove he was awake, despite his closed eyes.

“Hmm, are you certain that’s what you want? It could get messy, dating a _hero_ .”   
  
While Stephen placed a teasing emphasis on the word hero, there was little about the question that was teasing. Both of them, it had already been proven, were willing to sacrifice themselves in the name of the greater good. That had a lot of implications for a relationship.

It meant unique challenges. It could mean watching Tony die again, and again… and _again_ ... as though it would be easier any of the other times. It could mean having to step back and _allow_ that to happen. It could mean coming to blows, and not having each others’ backs because the future of _everything_ was more important…   
  
“Because if you think you could handle that, I’d be very pleased to call you mine, again.” But this was worth it too. Even if it ended in blood and screams, he couldn’t continue to fear failure. He'd waited for this second chance for a long time; he may not have called when he should have _back then_ , but he could do better _now_.

“Stephen my life is already a mess, I’d like to see you try and make it any worse.” He breathed, chuckling against his skin. He pressed a soft peck to his Adam’s apple, trailing soft kisses up towards the sorcerer’s cheek “Besides, I’d rather have you in my life than not, this doesn’t change anything other than the fact that now we can make-out in public and maybe you won’t turn beat red and we won’t turn heads.” He prodded, having advanced his trail of kisses to Stephen’s cheek before he finally pulled back to steal the man’s gaze.  
  
“I want you in my life, it would mean the world to me.” He was if anything, a puddle on the doctor’s chest, smiling like an idiot as his eyes flicked back and forth between Stephen’s. He reached up to give the cloak an endearing pat too.   
  
“Now question is: do you think you could even handle _me_ in your life?” Tony challenged, his expression turned impish.

A pleased hum rumbled in his throat at the attention to his neck before Stephen laughed softly. “I don’t know if I agreed to public displays of affection - at least if you mean that rowdy bunch downstairs who are probably wondering where you’ve disappeared to by now.” His eyes opened as lips pressed to his cheek, and he gave Tony a doting smile.

“I was _supposed_ to come here to make friends in some professional capacity. And you’ve _professionally_ ruffled me.”   
  
Wouldn’t _that_ make an impression on their allies? There for less than an hour and absconding off to dark corners with the host of the party, only to return ruffled and rosy-cheeked…

-and didn’t that just sound _scandalous_ and delightful? His smile turned playful at the thought, his hands running up along Tony’s sides thoughtfully, an examination by touch of the changes in the other man’s body, no longer restrained more than to make sure he applied enough pressure not to tickle the other too much.   
  
Tony was stronger now, anyone with eyes could see that, but the definition in his lats felt more pronounced under curious fingers, and a clear crease where they were covered by the trapezius muscles created a brief stutter in his hands’ slow voyage. Here and there his fingers met a knot of scar tissue in muscle - stories, each one. Something to ask about during sleepy mornings - and even the tell-tale spot a rib had healed back in less than ideal circumstances. Finally his hands came to rest over his shoulder blades, as he considered his answer.   
  
“I’m reasonably confident I can handle you Tony, but if not I have _help_.” The cloak fluttered up into Tony’s caress with a slight press against his hand in return before resettling and coiling around Tony’s shoulders. It nudged at Stephen slightly, leaving the sorcerer to make another soft humming noise. “Yes, I meant you.”

“Nuh-uh, you agreed to the whole package deal, it’s too late! You can’t just pick and choose what’s on the menu.” Tony could have melted under those soft ministrations. Those elegantly nimble fingers prodded and tended the stiff muscles over his backside as if he was counting the muscle groups in his mind, moving from one to the other, kneading him down like putty and dissolving years of physically imprinted stress.  
  
He peeked an eye open. God he wanted to just lay there, draw the moment out and keep Strange all to himself. He let out a breathy bray as Stephen’s fingers pressed down on a particularly tough kink in his back. A wave of pure pleasure washed over him and he felt light-headed for that moment, turning into a puddle atop the other man’s chest.   
  
“You know I’m not going to be able to get up after this.” Tony huffed against Stephen’s neck, having fallen back down on him. His eyes had drifted shut in blissful requiescence, ”-and I find that contradictory to your previous statement.”   
  
What was the point of even returning to the party? He’d sobered up some, and he would have rather whisked the man away for the rest of the night. As a host he did have an obligation to his guests, and he did suppose he could go down and make nice to them once again before the night was over.   
  
“If it were up to me, I’d make a point to show you off, dot you up with a few hickies and drag you along, slip in a little bit of that PDA - you know, _the works_.” Tony cracked an eye, a hint of playfulness to his tone.

The smile tugged more pointedly along Stephen’s lips as he listened to Tony, a warm happiness settling over him even without the cloak’s help or Tony’s body resting over his. An internal warmth crept pleasantly along under his skin to seep steadily through him, like little tendrils of magic, and he couldn’t find it in him to disagree with Tony.

It was comfortable there. Certainly more so than the idea of wandering around a crowd of boisterous heroes, or even sitting in the library at the Sanctum (that might have had more to do with the stress he felt every time he realized the library _still_ needed to be organized again, though still he hadn’t gotten around to it).   
  
“Oh? Perhaps I should’ve read the fine-print on this arrangement before signing on,” Stephen teased, his voice soft and low. “What else have you tucked away in this relationship’s details that I should know about?” His fingers traced light circles over Tony’s shoulder as he watched the other, considering Tony’s words with an indulgent smile and a soft chuckle.

He gave Tony a gentle squeeze.   
  
“-or maybe I can just leave all the details up to you, and trust that you know how to _handle me_.” He’d trusted Tony with his life - would it be so hard to trust Tony to determine the intricacies of it here and there? His eyes slid closed as he considered the thought, moving a hand to play with Tony’s hair absently.

“Oh I’ve already handled you.” He gave Strange another wholesome squeeze. He was content to just lay here, basking in the gentle aura Stephen always seemed to give off. He radiated confidence and security and Tony wanted nothing more than to stay locked in this perfect juncture. He was so drunk off the moment he’d failed to hear Peter plodding up from behind with slow tentative steps.  
  
“Umm, Mr. Stark - I don’t mean to interrupt you two or anything but I was wondering if maybe I could get a ride home.” Peter seemed rather bug-eyed but was adamant to pretend like everything was perfectly normal, _though his voice was sheepish and small._   
  
_Shit._   
  
_How long had Peter been standing there? What had he heard? PDA’s were one thing, but in front of kids they were another!_   
  
Tony froze, he wanted to just stay hidden under the cloak, bury his face in Stephen’s neck and hide, but here was really only one thing he could do, and that was to just own it.   
  
“Kid!” Tony sat up in a split second, straightening out his hair. The poor cloak would have tumbled off of his shoulders with the unexpected movement. His blazer was on the ground, and his dress shirt was ruffled and creased from being tangled up against Stephen’s body. “Yeah-yeah, uhh where’s your buddy Ned at?” He reluctantly stood up, plucking his blazer off the ground.   
  
“Oh he’s downstairs waiting, I didn’t know if you wanted him walking around the compound.” Tony let out a deep breath. Last thing he needed was Peter’s friend to also come upstairs and see him in this state.

The moment Tony moved enough, Stephen slipped himself out from beneath the other, drawing himself to his feet as the cloak hurriedly fluttered to coil around his neck. His fingers hooked into his coat for a moment as he lifted it from the floor and folded it over an arm, taking each moment to try and calm his immediately flushed face.

Locking doors would be a habit he'd have to get back into. _Clearly_.

"I can take Peter and his friend home, and be back before you know it," He offered, his voice remarkably composed given how hard his heart was hammering in his chest.  
  
Brushing at the cloak in a briefly distracted manner, Stephen finally looked up as the it unfurled from it’s scarf-state into a full cloak again, settling around Stephen’s shoulders in a more familiar manner as the sorcerer’s gaze fell on the teen.

“If you’d like, Peter? And it won't frighten your friend too terribly."

“Oh that would be so awesome Mr. Strange, Ned’s going to flip!” Peter had already moved past his little stupor at impeding on the two men’s private moment.  
  
“Beats the four-hour drive there and back for sure!” Tony joked, he walked around the couch to ruffle Peter’s hair with a recomposed smile as the young man turned around to jaunt back down the staircase.   
  
As Stephen turned to leave, Tony caught him by the collar of his shirt and pulled him in, stealing a quick kiss.

He grinned as he let the man go.  
  
“Don’t keep me waiting too long doc, I’m holding you to that. I want to walk down that staircase and see you back before I have another drink in my hand” He teased.

“You should work on that _flying car_ thing Tony, really. We were made certain promises about having those by now,” Stephen smirked a little, brushing his thumb along Tony’s jaw briefly then resting his hand at his side again to follow Peter back towards the stairs with a more affable smile.

“Let’s meet this friend of yours, shall we? It sounds like I’ve been given a deadline to work under.”

And this time he _wouldn’t_ leave Tony waiting. They’d both done enough of that.

**Author's Note:**

> This was a fun collab with Bravehardt, whose art graces the beginning of this piece! My first foray into this style of collaboration, but I had a ton of fun doing it and I hope you guys enjoyed reading!


End file.
